


go around a time or two

by doubtthestars



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Fluff and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-24 22:52:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3787342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doubtthestars/pseuds/doubtthestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Matze and Erik got together and got revenge on Marco. </p><p>or how hard is it to keep a crush under wraps in Dortmund and why does everybody think Matze is Erik's boyfriend?</p><p>featuring cameos from the nt and condom balloons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	go around a time or two

When Erik comes down with a “virus”, Matze stays away long enough to not catch anything but that doesn’t stop anyone on the team from winking and joking he’ll come back with it just the same. Mats leaves him with a thermos of tea because he’s “never mastered the art of flavored meat water” which would be alright, if he had announced his visit. 

He stares down his reflection on his car window for a second to make sure there wasn’t some sort of neon sign on his forehead saying “besotted please bother,” but finds nothing out of the ordinary.

Unlocking the door, he sighs deeply before starting the engine. It was hard being in love with your best friend with everyone in the know except for said best friend. 

As he drives, Jonas texts him.

Jonas: **tell Erik to stop freaking out about the side effects. He’s driving me crazy with his Web MD obsession.**

Matze texts back a quick “why don’t u?” with an eye roll for good measure. He hopes Jonas can feel some semblance of the stink-eye he’s mentally giving him. For all his admitted jealousy, Matze knows Jonas would get through to Erik faster than he will by virtue of being best friends with his crush. 

Jonas: **I have!! He listen to you!**  
Jonas: **will***

He doesn’t respond but dutifully does what he’s told as soon as he get to Erik’s.

“Stop googling maladies or Jonas will put shaving cream in all of your socks again.” is what he says instead of a greeting. Erik looks at him, betrayed and scrunches up his face like a child. 

“Matze, I think I’m allergic to the medication. Does this look like hives?” He lifts up his shirt with all the seriousness in the world. Matze darts his eyes away reflexively for a second to compose himself and finds himself wanting to tidy up the mess in Erik’s living room where he was clearly camping out during his quarantine. 

“Um, no? It’s probably dry skin you keep scratching at so it gets all bumpy.” He will not feel up his best friend in the name of hypochondria. Erik doesn’t do well sitting around with nothing to do and it has clearly gone to his head. 

Erik frowns and Matze squints at the irritated skin of his stomach(not his abs, nope) in hopes it looks like he’s taking his question seriously. 

“Fine, did you bring me anything, contraband goods maybe?” Matze laughs at his cheek, but hands over the thermos from his bag. 

“Tea first, junk food later. Your couch is a mess. Have you even moved away from the TV in the past few days?” 

Erik makes an offended noise that sounds more like a something a horse would do, but pads over to the kitchen to get mugs without reproach. Matze takes the opportunity to fold up the blankets and pick up stray wrappers on the floor and put them in a thankfully empty takeout bag. He scoops up empty water bottles off the coffee table to make space for his bag.

“What kind of tea is this? Smells good.” Erik comes out with the mugs in hand and Matze ties off the bag of trash and recyclables putting it to the side. He shrugs.

“Oh, I forgot to ask. Mats just gave it to me since he knew I was coming over. He got that fancy tea pack from Merte, it’s probably one of those.” Erik looks down at his toes for a second but fixes Matze with a smile just a shade too bright.

“We’re catching you up on Game of Thrones, no protests!” Matze groans. 

“I don’t even think I finished the first season.” Erik places the mugs on coasters before turning on his puppy dog eyes. 

“Matze,” He whines, drawing out the e. “You can’t be my friend if you don’t _at least_ watch Joffrey die with me.” Matze breaks easily but stalls by sipping at his tea that has a fruity hint of something he can’t pinpoint. He would have to text Mats at some point for the flavor because it would bother him if he couldn’t figure it out. 

“Okay, okay, but I’m holding you responsible if I sleep in and miss my alarm just to watch medieval royalty stab each other in the back.” Erik almost kicks the table in victory and jumps up to get the boxsets. 

“What’s the last thing you remember seeing?” Matze chews on his lip in contemplation. 

“Hmm, that albino guy getting gold poured on him by the horse king.” Erik snorts in laughter but skims the episode guide and gasps in mock horror. 

“You really weren’t kidding about not finishing the first season. Jeez, Matze, how do you live with yourself.” He shoves him and threatens to chuck all the contraband food out of his window.

Matze ends up staying over and taking a quick shower at Erik’s, borrowing an undershirt. He doesn’t see Joffrey die, but does have Erik fall asleep on him. It is completely worth the ribbing of the more astute taking note of his clothes.  
“Good night?” Mats raises an eyebrow but his tone is even, not mocking. Matze’s face turns hot at the tame teasing, maybe it’s worth more because he is the captain of the team. 

“Um, yeah, here.” He hands over the empty thermos and asks about the flavor before he loses his nerve and scuttles out to drown himself. The thought of going back home to get other clothes besides the spare stuff in his car had occurred to him but it would’ve made him late to practice and Erik had offered his laundry services while he took a shower. 

Mats gives him an indecipherable look.

“Passion fruit.” 

\---

Matze doesn’t say anything when Erik shows up with red eyes. Kloppo was like a father to all of them, but they felt especially indebted to the man as the younger members of the team. He remembers when he was still at Freiburg, playing against Dortmund. 

The coach had plucked at the jersey that had Erik’s name on it and joked that he looked better in the yellow than in red. He doesn’t forget it when he signs over to Dortmund after the World Cup. It is silly, but it gave him a little more confidence in his future with the team, even with the weltmeister title behind him.

“Oh look at the duo, hey, we’re going to the pool. Come join us, we’ll have a Revierderby in water, unofficially of course.” Julian and Benni stop in front of them. Erik and Matze look at each other, communicating with non-verbals until Matze shrugs.

“Nah, we’re going to play darts. I think I can get Miro to join in the tourney.” Julian shakes his head in amusement.

“Alright, have fun then.” The housemates walk away with Benedikt whispering something to the younger man who is a touch too loud.

“Yeah, duh, they’re stuck like glue.” Erik turns red and Matze looks up to the television like it’s suddenly turned into something more interesting than ARD in their mid-afternoon programming. They stand up and don’t look at each other for a couple of seconds until Erik spots Toni coming through the room. Instinctively, he drags Matze with him to ask after Miro.

“He’s still in the rooms, I think.” Toni responds cautiously, not sure of their intentions.

“Oh, thanks, would you like to join our darts tournament?” Erik shifts into his other foot, not even sure why he asked because he didn’t particularly want more people to come along. 

“I can’t. Mario’s been texting me every two minutes that he’s bored. I have to stop him from stealing a golf cart on Thomas’ orders or something. If Andre is still lazing about when you get Miro, tell him I will blame him for everything and get Fips to give him _a talk_ on responsibility.” Toni rushes off with his phone buzzing in his hand.

Erik grins at Matze.

“I feel so much better about myself around these weirdos. How did we end up in Brazil with them?” 

“Jogi Loew, Klopp and Streich.” Erik and Matze don’t manage to find Andre or Miro. 

He holds Erik for a fraction longer than he should in selfish comfort. He’s never been prone to tears but keeps all of his sadness inside of him, locked up tight. Hugging Erik helps even if he doesn’t know it.

“I can’t believe he’s leaving. It’s not his fault and he shouldn’t martyr himself for it.” Erik spits out the word ‘martyr’ like a curse. 

“We’ll just have to show them. We’ll give him the farewell he deserves.” Matze is clear and determined, doesn’t falter even as Erik’s fingers skim under his jaw. Erik smiles gratefully. It is the closest to a moment they’ve had since Brazil. He doesn’t think about the scant centimeters between them. 

“Okay, yeah.” Erik’s eyelashes lower and Matze blinks in reflex. 

Their next game against Paderborn is a triumph for them both. They share a smile in the tunnel. 

_For Kloppo? For Kloppo._

\---

Pierre is the one who eventually stumbles and spills the beans. It is so innocent, Erik and Matze don’t know what to do but get flustered and talk over each other until Pierre raises a hand.

“You aren’t? Everybody--I assumed...shit, I’m sorry. That’s the last time I listen to Marco and Ilkay.” He jokes and Erik attempts a weak laugh but can’t think beyond the panic siren in his head. Matze doesn’t meet anyone’s eye as he mumbles and walks off in a hurry. 

There aren’t many places to hide at a party in Casa de Reus but Matze manages to squeeze himself into the striker’s closet to have a quiet meltdown. Pierre had pointed at Marco and Ilkay but suddenly events that had happened in the past year made a lot more sense.

The whole team knew about his feelings. He was obvious but to play it out like they were dating? He eyes the sneakers in front of him. If Matze were a vengeful person, he would do something more than try to fry them with the power of his mind. It was humiliating. 

Coming from their national teammates, it was no wonder everybody (Pierre, who else had they fooled?) thought it was true.

Matze curls further into himself when he hears footsteps come into the room. 

“Where else could he be?” Erik sounds angry. His heart pounds in his chest like a rabbit’s. 

“I don’t know, we’ve checked every room. Are you sure he’s still here? He could have taken a cab back.” Marco sounds surprisingly sober for the amount he had drank in the time Matze had actually enjoyed the party. 

“He’s still here.” Erik’s tone slides into something quieter but no less determined. Someone opens the door because the music sounds less muffled and Marco says something he doesn’t catch. He waits until he doesn’t hear footsteps and slides open the door of the closet. The light was turned off and Matze stumbles over something in the dark.

“Ugh, ow, what the hell was that?” He shakes his foot out before feeling out the wall for the light switch. The light of the connecting bathroom floods the corner of the room and Matze freezes.

“Matze?” _Erik._

He turns on the light with his back to the wall. He steels himself. Matthias Ginter would face this head on, even if it broke his heart.

“Hi,” he swallows down his fear. Erik rushes to him and stops before his outstretched hands come in contact with him. They fall like dead weight in uncertainty. Matze’s hands are flat against the wall.

“So,” He starts and doesn’t know where to go.

“Matze, I’m sorry. They had no right springing that on you because of my feelings. I sort of tackled Marco after and it was a whole--” Matze’s hearing went in and out like being in a tunnel after Erik apologized, sure he was going to say something like ‘I could never like you. I’m finally going to confess my undying love to Jonas.’

“Your what?” He gasped out, interrupting Erik’s rambling about the carpet and Mats dumping his drink on the wrestling pair.

“Um, I, uh,” Erik stammered as if he just realized what he had said.  
Matze’s heart did a funny little hiccup when Erik licked his lips. 

“I like you? No, I mean, I really like you.” He huffs frustrated at the lack of words but Matze feels woozy just from that.

“You’re the best guy ever, I don’t even know how to say--this is so fucking, unbelievable, I can’t even say anything _right_ , you’re my best friend and I’m so stupid in--in love with you.” His eyes are wide but Erik is uncharacteristically shy and looking over to the closet in an attempt to control the flush of his face.

His hands act on their own, grabbing Erik and his attention.

“I do too. I thought--I thought the guys were making fun of me. I like you too.” He finishes with a bashful smile. Erik looks amazed. His hands reciprocate touch. 

“Can I kiss you?” Matze nods, holding his breath, wondering if he hadn’t fallen asleep in the closet and was dreaming all of this. Erik’s hand is warm against his throat and goes to cup the back of his neck. 

He closes his eyes.

“We should lock the door.” Matze feels the puffs of air against his lips and gives up pretense. He maybe wants to punch Erik--on the arm--maybe knock some sense into him.

“Why?” He whispers back and Erik’s eyes are close enough for him to see the effect, his pupils swallowing more light. A giddy thrill rushes through him at the thought that he did that. Matze made Erik’s brain disconnect and focus on more pressing matters.

It is he, who takes the final step of getting their lips engaged but Matze doesn’t complain in the wave of enthusiasm between them. His hands end up in Erik’s hair and somehow their positions reversed with Matze pushing Erik into the wall with his hips.

“The door,” Erik hisses out as Matze’s lips trail down and find a rewarding spot just shy of his jaw. Matze hums acknowledgement but doesn’t comply. 

Erik uses dirty tactics and his hands to get him to listen.

“If you lock the door, we’ll have the room and bathroom to ourselves. We don’t have to do anything--shit, okay, but revenge, oh my god, just--”

Matze locks the door.

It takes two hours for someone to investigate the upstairs bathroom. It takes twenty minutes of Marco yelling for Erik to finally come out of the bathroom while Matze came out of the bedroom. Marco stares and connects the dots with horror. Mats laughs until his sides hurt. 

The next day Jonas brings over a cake that says ‘congrats on the sex’.

“We didn’t have sex. We just blew up all the condoms in the bathroom and put them in his closet.” Matze deadpans and Jonas puts down the cake in a semi-outrage. 

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this moment, why do you have to…” They look at each other and Erik starts laughing until Matze breaks into his own. They hold each other up as their laughter subsides. 

Jonas huffs, “I thought you two were sickening before, I’m leaving you lovebirds alone. Enjoy the cake.” He slams the door as he hears peals of laughter again.

“So...now we have a cake that’s a lie.” Erik cocks his head. Matze raises an eyebrow.

“Food fetishization already? I thought you start with easy things like whipped cream and chocolate syrup.” Erik groans and hides his reddening face in his hands.

“Matze, please.” It is in embarrassment but Matze just smiles.

“If you insist.”


End file.
